Don't get me wrong
by Shire cat
Summary: I only want to know...Review PLEASE!


Don't own JCS. I'd like to own Drew Sarich though.

Judas' thoughts about Jesus.

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He's putting us all at risk. The Romans will come after us...him…me! This has gotten out of hand, insanity. You can't go around saying that you're God and not except to step on anybody's toes. Seriously, Jesus.

This can't last much longer, the crowds are fickle. They'd as soon stab you as kiss you . The Sanhedrin aren't crazy about you claiming you're the new Messiah either.

Your followers expect a Kingdom. Not your platonic always-and-ever-shall-be-world-without-end-Amen kingdom of Heaven but a kingdom here on earth. They expect an army against the Romans; an end to poverty…God knows what they expect! But it's not the "God helps those who help themselves" crap you've been spewing.

Very soon, people are going to get angry.

They'll turn on you in a heartbeat.

They want action.

If they can't get it from you, they'll take it against you.

I'm scared. I don't trust these nutty fans of yours, Jesus, any more than I'd trust a hungry tiger who's been fasting. I don't know why you trust them either. A man like you should realize, should be smart enough to realize the way tide turns, the unpredictability of people.

Even your own disciples want something from you.

Simon expects you to be some kind of huge political power, Peter just wants someone to follow, Mary expects…

Well, I'm sure you know very well what Mary expects.

But you won't take the bait, will you?

Are you teasing her or just not interested? I can never tell with you.

If something doesn't breakout between us and the Pharisees or us and the Romans or us and your followers…

It'll be ourselves.

We're snapping, we're breaking.

Mary wants you, Simon doubts you, I don't think Peter's got the courage to even stay with you if things get rough.

And me…

I don't know what I want

But I know I don't want to die.

It's not that I don't trust you…

But…

But…

It is.

Fine. I don't trust you.

I don't know what I was thinking when I joined up with you. I don't know what I thought would happen. How far our little band of wandering preachers would go. How far our words would spread. How much shit we'd get into.

It was nice, I can't say it wasn't.

I enjoyed being second in command, being a part of something that had some meaning to it. It was nice being your lieutenant. I never figured it would be anything big of course but it did have some meaning, a personal meaning.

But I never expected anything like this. A movement so big we'd have all of Jerusalem after us, either screaming for your love or screaming for your blood.

And I think it's going to be blood.

I can feel the tension growing, the waters stirring,

The tides turning.

I'm scared, Jesus. I'm scared to death.

Yes, I'll admit I'm jealous of you.

You're adored by women, loved by masses. They think you're, well, God.

Who wouldn't be jealous of you? When I first met you I knew you were a decent guy, a smart guy, a good guy.

A miracle worker?

A healer?

A Messiah?

Now that I'm not so sure about.

What the Hell do I know? Maybe you can heal cripples, cure lepers, whatever.

But you're still a man. You can't stop the Romans or the Pharisees from making our lives a living Hell.

I love you, and I care about you but you're not worth my life. I'm sorry.

When I first met you, I was amazed that some one could be so spiritually minded and yet so self assured. So full of the belief that what you were doing was right, so convicted, so sure…

Are you still sure?

You had the ability to control anyone, get anything you wanted. You could silence a whole crowd. Hell, you could stop a riot.

Not this riot.

I just don't get it. Can't you see, don't you know what's going to happen?

You must.

Hell, you're not blind. You've got to be able to see your death in their eyes

Are you blind, Jesus?

Or are you deaf?

Are you turning away from what you see, from what's coming to pass? Why? Don't you care about yourself, about us? Don't you care what will happen to us?

Do you care anymore at all?

Have you given up? Do you think we can't fight back, that there's nothing we can do?

Or don't you even want to try?

Is it all over already? Are we already doomed? Is that what you're trying to tell me? Is that why you won't fight back?

Or are you trying to martyr yourself? Think there's some special poetry in 'dying for your beliefs'?

I'm not quite sure that "love your neighbor as yourself" would be quite the right approach to this.

I loved you once, Jesus. I still do. I was your confidante, you were my best friend. And I still care about you. I had faith in you once too. That, however, is dwindling.

Maybe you don't care if you die. Maybe you want to be a martyr. You don't care that your death might mean nothing, that you'll be persecuted in shame, that they'll defame you years later, call you a heretic and a blasphemer, that they'll say God know what horrible things about you and your followers.

Maybe you don't care.

But I do.

I can't, I won't go down with a sinking ship.

I'm sorry, Jesus.

I'm sorry.

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Judas Iscariot raised his eyes to the high priests in front of him and sighed.

"On Thursday night, you'll find him where you want him: far from the crowd, in the Garden of Gethsemane."

_Well done Judas, good old Judas…_


End file.
